The Lancet
by MistakenIllusion
Summary: They meet in the psychiatric ward. He's meant to be incurable. She...no one knows who she is. His cure, he decides – or his demise. Just when he thinks he's pieced it together, the world goes up in flames. AU.
1. Part 1: Placebo

**The Lancet**

By MistakenIllusion

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**Part 1: Placebo**

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'The only thing that can

Cure

Me is the

_Strength_

Of my

**Will.'**

_–Gaara_


	2. Initiation

**The Lancet**

By MistakenIllusion

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**Part 1: Placebo**

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**Initiation**

Initially, the vast sea of faces submerges you in its waves. You become disorientated – for lack of a better word – and you can't remember which way is east. Simplistic minds would call it overwhelming. However, if you are of the few who can observe this environment with a keen analytical eye, you will soon learn all the names and faces, simply from the way they interact in this fragile ecosystem. I am one of those few.

At present, a tall blonde woman and a smaller girl were deep in conversation at the edge of what was a usually-empty corridor. It was a strange sight for many reasons, but most notably this: in Suna _('tranquil rehabilitation for the mentally unstable', _it promises in faded black lettering at the entrance), no one comes in. No one goes out. Yet here were two new faces, emerging within the same day.

The former I recognised from an earlier encounter. Dr Tsunade's introduction had been perfectly affable. She quickly explained that she was the new senior consultant of a particular sector (the name of which escaped me, for it had been buried beneath a pile of jargon) and she was also the overseer of my 'care'. After flicking through my thick red file, she learnt the fundamental details – how long I had been here, notes from my health check-ups and information about my meetings with various others in her field. White coat; stethoscope – she fit the profile of a new doctor. But unlike others in her place, instead of revelling in the power bestowed upon her in the form of a large mahogany desk, she refused to acknowledge it for what it was – a physical barrier, in more ways than one.

The sheer volume of the infamous events recorded in my condensed paper life was by no means intimidating to her. I briefly gave her figments of my attention – the rest was focused on the ticking clock situated to the left of her head – until a few choice words compelled me to sit up and give her my full attention. Her plans were to change my course of treatment after assessment. Immediately. I silently scoffed, dubious of promises of change. Yet the tense, hopeful look on her face revealed the true extent of her inexperience. It was a dramatic contrast to the maturity I thought I had seen in her brown eyes. How very intriguing. I could have been the psychiatrist, instead of the mad patient atop the long white settee.

She asked a few probing questions as my thoughts drifted to the infrastructure of the room. The whole room was white – the walls, the floorboards, the chairs. I had once read that white created a scene of tranquillity and innocence. Yet here, it only accentuated the lack of care given to this room, with the paint crumbling off the walls and a splintered leg missing from a chair. Bittersweet irony if I ever saw it. I never once voiced a word of my thoughts during this hour. With a reluctant sigh, I was dismissed. It wasn't until I departed that I realised something of drastic importance. Dr Tsunade had not yet reached her inevitable conclusion.

I.

Am.

Incurable.

'Gaara?'

My eyes snapped up at the sound of my name. Both women had intent gazes fixed in place, attentive and unblinking. I nodded in acknowledgement, allowing them to interpret the direction of my acknowledgement.

'Gaara, I don't believe you've met Sakura.'

I hadn't. Sakura was the smaller of the two. Diverting my attention to assess her, I saw a lot more than the vivid mop of pink hair that had been the only thing on show when she had stood with her back to me. The clenched fists at her sides revealed her reluctance to be associated with the timid, vulnerable stereotype of those with her small stature. Her eyes were the same green as mine, surprising me with their expression – as cold as the steel framework of the doors. There was nothing remarkable or threatening about her appearance. She was by no means beautiful, but striking nonetheless.

'Hello.'

Her lips curved upwards slightly, but her eyes remained unsmiling. I could feel her reading me, just as I had done to her seconds before. A smart head rested on her shoulders if she had her wits about her. To someone less experienced in human nature, she would have appeared ditzy and innocent. But people seldom know what to make of the eyes. The eyes reveal all.

Many questions were still left unanswered.

Who was she?

Why was she here?

'If you excuse us now, Gaara, I must take Sakura to my office.'

I acknowledged these words with a sudden blink before I proceeded along my path. Without a backward glance, I knew they would soon disappear from sight. They had not shown themselves to be important; something that could endanger the construction of this institution. But I knew better than to overlook deceiving appearances. I would deal with them another time.

I stopped in my tracks very suddenly before reaching a sharp bend. I sniffed the thick air experimentally, testing it. I silenced my breathing. And there it was. The squeaking of the floorboards, like mice. The telltale noises of an unwelcome intruder.

_Kill._

Adrenaline surged through my veins; blood pounded in my ears, as I subconsciously prepared to stalk my prey. I rounded on him with whip-like speed. After all, you should never allow your back to face the enemy.

To my disappointment, it was just a Shroud. He was perched on a rusted ladder, attempting in vain to change a flickering bulb. A noble effort, but a wasted one, as the lights in this vicinity were in a permanent state of brokenness – or close enough. I personally preferred a state of eternal semi-darkness. It concealed the ominous reds and yellows staining the walls, revealing their state of decay. _How fitting, seeing as we all come here to rot._

'Let's have a little fun,' came Shukaku's growl of anticipation behind me. I fought to suppress a smirk, slowly creeping onto my face. With him alongside me, things would certainly be more… _interesting._

Meanwhile, the young Shroud was seemingly-oblivious to our dominant presence. True to his namesake, his emotions remained determinedly masked. However, I detected every crack emerging in his otherwise-flawless demeanour. His hands began to tremble; fingernails clinking against the glass of the bulb. He hastily tried to screw it into place, failing abysmally in his attempts.

'Boo.'

I marvelled at the way the sound of my voice echoed across the deserted corridor. The word whispered from every crevasse, amplifying uncertainty in the bravest of souls.

Slowly, my addressee lowered his gaze to a hesitant glance. It displeased me, the way he deliberately avoided my eyes. Perhaps he did not want me to see his own, for fear I might be able to see what evils were lurking there.

'Sabaku no Gaara,' he stated with conviction, 'you cannot hurt me. They will not allow it.'

I narrowed my eyes. He had the gall to speak with such arrogance. The right was not his, not for a feeble snake such as himself. I noted with satisfaction that I was notorious; that I could reduce a stranger like this to a quivering wreck.

I edged closer to him, the magnified sounds of my footsteps making it seem like I was an army in my own right. I was testing him, daring him to challenge me. Foolish as he was, he willingly took the bait.

'One step closer and I will report you. You know what they'll do. They'll –'

'– lock me up and throw away the key,' I finished with a deadpan. 'Indeed.' I paused to allow him to realise the futility of his words. _And now to teach him a lesson._

I sensed Shukaku's eyes twitching with excitement at the promise of bloodshed. A vein throbbed erratically in my victim's neck. His blood, I was sure, was so rich, so full of life. So easy to take. It became harder and harder to fight the distinct urge to –

_Kill._

_Kill._

**_KILL!_**

'Which bones should we break first?'

I paused, allowing time for my words to make their mark.

The object in his hand slipped out of his grasp, hitting the floorboards with a _crash. _Shards of broken glass scattered everywhere before falling to the ground like flakes of snow. His eyes locked on mine, brimming with the desired emotion.

Fear.

From here, it was easy. I simply had to jostle the wobbling ladder. The height of the fall would most likely break his neck and end his pathetic life. A few more steps, a few strategic moves, and –

'Careful, Gaara. This is child's play.' Shukaku's voice firmly rooted me before I could allow primal instincts to prevail.

I then decided to end this encounter with words that would surely burn into the Shroud's soul; brand it like white-hot iron. I could sense my departing words adopting a philosophical mindset.

'You shouldn't fraternize with the mad.'

'And why isssss that?' Shukaku prompted.

'Because when you hurt the mad, you are taking advantage of the vulnerable. But when the mad hurt you, well…There is –

'Nothing.

'You.

'Can.

'Do.'

I finished with a low hiss.

His eyes widened, now large as plates. His lips were visibly quivering as he lifted a shaking finger to point at something. To point at _me._ I assumed the position of a hunter poised to attack – widened stance, bared teeth, blood pounding.

'You have three seconds.'

Wisely, he understood. He had the rare chance to escape, unscathed. Counting his stars, he immediately obeyed this embedded command. He jumped off the ladder, hitting the ground with a solid _thud. _The erratic pitter-patter of his footsteps faded as he progressed further and further. The floor shook with a judder as he lost his footing, tripping and stumbling in pursuit of his escape.

Shukaku fell into step beside me. I turned to my left, preparing to ascend to a room three floors up, second on the right. But I stopped, because a distant object caught my eye. A blood-red object located at the base of the ladder, left behind by the Shroud.

I approached it, crouching down to inspect it more closely. It was a thick red folder. Only patients' folders were red. Squinting, I could only just make out the faded gold lettering.

_Sabaku no Gaara._

Something was amiss. What were my files doing, exposed in an open space like this? I knew for a fact that all inmates' credentials were housed in a high-security room at the end of the underground corridor. Only Coats had access to keys. Regulations stated that they could only be transferred by Coats, to Coats, and when they weren't in the stores for safekeeping, they were in a Coat's clinic, with said Coat's presence at all times. The fact that it lay here, unguarded, could only mean that –

Security had been breached. Someone had been snooping.

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**Glossary:**

**Lancet – double-edged surgical blade**

**Placebo – a medicine prescribed for psychological (not physiological) benefit**

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**A/N:**

**1) Thanks to SomeDamn Author for beta-ing this**

**2) I've used British grammar, which could explain any grammatical unfamiliarity you might spot**


End file.
